


Save Tonight

by HeartonFire



Series: Save Tonight [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Druids, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Hunter Dean, Hunter Sam, Magic, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Oral Sex, Post-Coital Cuddling, Protective Dean, Protective Dean Winchester, Psychic Abilities, Sleeping Together, Smut, Vaginal Sex, smut is at the end
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-12
Updated: 2017-10-12
Packaged: 2019-01-16 07:10:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,460
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12337953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HeartonFire/pseuds/HeartonFire
Summary: Dean and Sam pick up a new ally while tracking a shapeshifter, but she's not willing to go along with everything they say. She's a little more independent than their usual human allies and Dean just can't resist once he sees what she can do.





	Save Tonight

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by a recent marathon of the first four seasons of Supernatural and reflection on some family stories. Not a self-insert/reader-insert, but an original character, in a hunt we didn't get to see on the show.

“Where am I?” Callie mumbled. She could hear the roar of an engine and feel the vibration of the road beneath her. Blinking as she looked around, she saw leather seats and slightly scratched chrome details. She was in a car, but she had no idea who it belonged to.

She lifted her head and saw two men in the front seat, humming along to the classic rock song playing through the old-school stereo. Her heart pounded in her chest and she fought down the surge of adrenaline that was telling her to scream. The dark-haired one in the passenger seat glanced back, noticing her movement, and smiled at her.

“Glad you’re awake.”

“Where the hell am I?” she asked, rubbing her head, which was suddenly pounding.

“Well, since you asked, sweetheart,” the driver said, smirking back at her, “We are currently driving down I-90, soon to switch over to 495.”

Callie sat bolt upright, groaning a little at the throbbing pain shooting through her temples. “Who are you?”

“That would have been my first question,” the driver said. “I’m Dean. This is Sam.” The passenger waved at her.

“And why am I in the backseat of your car?”

“Because we couldn’t leave you in your apartment,” Sam said, putting an arm on the back of the seat to turn and face her. She raised her eyebrows. “Do you remember anything about what happened today?”

Callie forced herself to think past the pain and considered his words. She remembered going to work that morning, and “agents” had shown up, asking about one of her students. She was a teacher, working with kids who had severe behavioral challenges, and she had shouted her principal out of the room at the idea of giving one of her kids over to strangers who couldn’t explain why they wanted him or provide any paperwork to back up what they were saying. After school, she had gone home, and that was the last thing she could remember.

“It was you,” she muttered, glaring at the pair of them.

“What’s that?” Dean said, glancing at her in the mirror.

“You were the people who wanted to take Miles today.”

The two men looked at each other, and Sam nodded. “Uh, yeah. We needed to talk to him.”

“Why?”

“Boy, you sure do have a lot of questions,” Dean said.

“You’re the ones who kidnapped me,” she reminded him, crossing her arms over her chest.

“We saved you from something much worse than the backseat of this car,” he shot back, never taking his eyes off the road.

“Oh? And what’s that?”

“That kid is part of something way bigger than you understand,” he snarled.

“Then why don’t you enlighten me?” She raised her eyebrows at Sam, who wasn’t meeting her eyes.

He sighed. “It’s a long story.”

“Well, since I don’t know where we’re going, I’d say we have time.”

Sam looked at Dean for a moment, who shrugged. “If you’re going to tell her, get on with it,” Dean growled.

“We, uh, hunt things for a living.”

“Like animals?”

“More like ghosts and demons. That kind of thing.” Callie thought her eyebrows were going to shoot off, she felt them fly up so fast. “I know, it sounds crazy, but it’s true. And we’ve been tracking this shapeshifter for a while, and it led us to your school.”

“A shapeshifter?”

“Yeah. It can make itself look like anyone.”

“Why would it choose Miles?”

“Tell me, is he the kind of kid people would miss if he didn’t show up for a few days?”

Callie sat up straighter. “I would.”

“But does he miss school often?”

“Yes. I don’t see how that makes him a shapeshifter though.”

“It doesn’t,” Sam said, smiling gently at her. “It just means it took his shape to get into the school.”

“But why would it want to do that? We don’t have anything of value.”

“On the contrary,” Dean piped up again. “It wanted you.”

Callie’s heart stopped. “Why would it want me?”

“Ms. Prescott,” Dean began.

“Call me Callie. Everyone does.”

“Fine. Callie, what do you know about your family?”

She blinked at the two of them, looking from one to the other. “What do you mean?”

“What do you know about your maternal grandmother?”

She squinted, thinking. “She was an Irish immigrant. She was a confectioner in Ireland and worked all kinds of jobs when she got here.”

“Did she know anything about the occult or magic?”

She scoffed, but thought about it. “I mean, she did seem to know things before they happened sometimes. And there was one time she cursed my mom’s friend for being a bad friend to her. But she was a sweet little Irish Catholic lady, not some witch.”

“Cursed? How?”

“I don’t know. She was being weird about being in my mom’s wedding because she thought she would be pregnant and my grandmother said she would never have kids. And then she didn’t. It’s just one of those family stories, you know?”

“Did she teach you any charms or anything?” Sam asked, ignoring the question.

“Charms? You mean, like wishes?” Sam nodded, and she continued. “She gave us wishes all the time. Going into a new church, stirring the plum pudding, stuff like that.”

“And did it work?”

“Not always right away, but usually eventually.”

“Did she teach you any of that stuff?”

Callie shrugged. “Not really. She would just say that it was a family tradition or whatever. Why does that matter?”

“We think,” Sam said, wincing a little, “that she was descended from the druids.”

“Druids? Like human sacrifice, fairy trees, that kind of druid?” Sam nodded again. “She was really magic?”

“We think so.”

“But what does that have to do with me?”

“The shapeshifter wanted to access that druidic power to be more stable.”

“So where are you taking me?”

“Good lord, the questions never stop, do they?” Dean grumbled.

“I’ll say it again. You’re the ones who kidnapped me. I think I’m entitled to some questions.”

“We just need to keep you out of harm’s way until the shapeshifter is out of the picture.”

“And where is ‘out of harm’s way’?”

“Undisclosed location,” Dean said, smirking again.

Callie sighed, leaning back against the seat. It was going to be a long drive.

 

* * *

 

She must have dozed off, dreams full of magic and blood, because she woke to find the car pulling into the gravel parking lot of a seedy-looking motel. Sam went to get a room, and Callie was left with Dean. He pulled some bags out of the trunk and she glimpsed quite a bit of metal alongside their duffel bags.

She cleared her throat and Dean looked at her, raising an eyebrow. “Problem?”

“I’m at a sketchy motel with two guys I don’t know, and they have a trunk full of guns. Why would there be a problem?”

He huffed out a chuckle, leaning against the car, long legs crossed in front of him. “Listen, I know we’re not exactly warm and fuzzy, but you’re safer with us.”

“Oh sure. I bet you say that to everyone you kidnap.” He laughed again, the smile lighting up his handsome features.

Sam came back with the keys to the room and let them into the door farthest from the office. He pushed the door open and let her go through first. He was so tall she could walk under his arm with room to spare.

She sat down on the bed farthest from the door and stared at them as they organized their guns and ammunition like it was nothing.

“Hey,” Dean said, after a moment. He saw her wide eyes and his face softened. He put down the shotgun he was cleaning and lifted his hands. “You hungry?”

Callie shrugged. “I guess so?” When had she last eaten? Lunch? Breakfast? She thought it had been breakfast, but she was so tired she couldn’t remember. “I really just want to go to sleep,” she said, stifling a yawn.

“Alright,” Dean said, shifting his weight. “Get some rest.” Something flickered in his green eyes and Callie turned away from him, pulling the blankets over herself.

She could hear the men shuffling around and tried not to think about how vulnerable she was with them in the room. They were both much bigger than she was, and they had all those weapons. And yeah, they were both crazy hot, but that didn’t mean they wouldn’t murder her in her sleep. She forced herself to keep her eyes open, even after the lights were turned off and the whispering and rustling had stopped.

Try as she might, she couldn’t quite keep herself awake, and her dreams were filled with horrible images of what could happen to her in this situation. She jolted awake to see the first weak rays of sunlight streaming through the heavy curtains and hitting the pale yellow paint that was chipping off the wall. It couldn’t be much past dawn. Turning over, she saw that Dean was already awake, and Sam was nowhere to be seen.

“Morning, sunshine,” Dean said, waving some papers at her.

“Were you up all night?”

“Sam and I traded off watches,” he said, shrugging and turning back to his work.

“Where is he?” She somehow felt more vulnerable here with just one of them.

“Getting some breakfast,” he grunted. “If you want a shower, feel free.”

“I don’t have any other clothes,” she reminded him.

“Here,” he said, putting the papers down and pulling a duffel bag towards him. He pulled out a shirt and tossed it to her, still hardly glancing her way.

“Thanks,” she mumbled. The shirt was going to be too big, but it smelled clean, at least. She headed for the tiny bathroom and ran the water, waiting until it was so hot it was almost scalding. She stepped into the stream and tried to wash off all the weirdness of the last twelve hours. When the water started to turn tepid, she got out and toweled off with one of the scratchy towels on the shelf. She rinsed out her mouth and pulled on the AC/DC t-shirt Dean had lent her.

She was toweling her hair dry as she emerged from the bathroom and saw that Sam had returned, bringing with him several cups of coffee, which smelled amazing, and a brown bag of something.

“Hungry?” he asked, offering her the bag. Looking inside, she saw muffins. She chose one and pulled off the wrapper, waiting to take a bite until she saw Dean digging into one as well. It was a little dry, but she was so hungry at that point, she would have eaten almost anything, now that she knew it was safe.

“So, what’s the plan now?” Callie asked, taking a sip of the coffee.

“For you?” Dean asked, and she shrugged. “You stay here, door locked, and we go deal with the shapeshifter.”

“What?” She almost spat out the bite of muffin she had in her mouth. “I just sit around and wait for you to get back?”

The men looked at each other. “It’s too dangerous for your to do anything else.”

“Excuse me? How do you know I can’t help you with whatever you’re doing?”

“You don’t have any experience with shapeshifters or the supernatural or any of that. You didn’t even know shapeshifters existed until yesterday,” Dean said, in a voice that made her want to punch him.

“But the shapeshifter is after me for a reason, right?” His eyes narrowed. “I must have some kind of power, or it wouldn’t be after me.”

“It could just be a power in your blood, though,” Sam said, holding out a hand to his brother, whose fists were clenched. “So, you don’t have the power, but it’s dormant inside you.”

“But what if it isn’t?” Callie winced to hear the way her voice rose in pitch. She sounded like a petulant child. Huffing a little, she folded her arms, glaring at the pair of them.

“You know anything about guns or fighting?” Dean asked, starting to pace. “Because we’re burning daylight, and you better have a damn good reason for it.”

“I don’t believe in guns.” He laughed, raising his eyebrows and holding up his hands like he had just won the argument. Callie stood to face him, tilting her chin up to look him in his strikingly green eyes. “I might not have experience with that stuff, but I’m a teacher. You think I don’t deal with ugly shit every day? Think on my feet? Handle tough situations?”

Sam smiled. “She has a point.”

“No, she doesn’t. And the longer we fight about this, the more likely it is that the shapeshifter has changed its form already.”

“Seems to me like you’re the only one fighting,” Callie said, smirking at him.

Dean grumbled, picking up his shotgun and throwing it in a duffel bag. “Fine. If you’re coming, then let’s go.”

 

* * *

 

Dean didn’t speak to her or Sam for the whole ride back to Boston. His eyes were laser-focused on the road ahead, but she could hear him muttering to himself every so often. She was just glad not to be stuck in that sickly yellow room all day with nothing to do.

When he finally pulled the car to a stop, Dean turned to look at her, eyes fierce. “Listen, Callie. You need to understand a few things if you’re really going in there with us.” She raised an eyebrow, but before she could respond, he held up a finger. “Number one, you need to do as you’re told. That means, if I say hide, you hide. If I say run, you run. If I say get down, you drop. Immediately. Understood?” She nodded, but as she opened her mouth again, he held up a second finger. “Number two, you shouldn’t even be here, so if you get in the way or stop us from doing our job, we’re done.”

“Fine.”

“Here,” Sam said, holding out a small revolver.

Callie blinked at him. “I wasn’t kidding about not being into guns, Sam.”

“It’s just for emergencies. Hopefully, you won’t need it.”

She took it, holding it between her fingers like a nasty bug, but she put it in her pocket anyway, earning an encouraging smile from Sam.

“You ladies ready to go?” Dean said, staring around like he expected snipers to be on the lookout for them.

She followed Sam and Dean into the community center. It was empty, and it looked like it should be locked up, but there were a few people moving inside. From the front door, she could see Miles, but he looked strange, almost blank, like he wasn’t really his usual self. Why hadn’t she noticed that before?

“There he is,” she whispered, and Dean waved at her to be quiet.

They approached slowly, and Dean pulled her behind a wall just before they went into the gym. “Can you get him out here?” he asked, hand on her shoulder.

“Sure,” she said. “What are you going to do to him?”

“That’s not really him. We’ll gank the shapeshifter and then find wherever it stashed Miles.”

She stared at him in horror. “Miles is out there somewhere?”

“Yes,” Dean said, squeezing her shoulder. “And we’ll find him, but we have to do this first. If it changes again, we might never find it.”

Callie nodded, squaring her shoulders as she pushed the doors open. “Hey, guys!” she said, as cheerily as she could manage.

“Hi, miss,” they said, hardly looking up from their basketball game.

“Why are you dressed like that?” one of them said, staring at her. Callie looked down, remembering too late she was in jeans and Dean’s shirt.

“Miles, could I talk to you for a minute?” she said, ignoring the question. He blinked at her, but fixed a smile on his face and followed her, steps robotic and too even for his usual bouncy gait.

She pushed the doors open and then all hell broke loose. “Miles” grabbed her and held a knife to her throat, pulling her against the wall.

“You let her go, you slimy piece of shit,” Dean growled, aiming his pistol at the thing’s head.

“And why would I do that?” she heard Miles’ voice say. “I think this sweet little teacher is going to be the perfect cover for my next trick. You Winchesters think you’re so clever, but there’s no way out of this.”

“I’ll blow your head off,” he said, and the thing laughed.

“You’re a good shot, but you’re not that good, Winchester.” Its hands felt cold and clammy to her and she shuddered. “Besides, she’d bleed out before you could do anything.” As if to illustrate its point, it pressed the edge of the knife against her throat, drawing a tiny line of blood from beneath her skin.

“You want to bet?” She could see his eyes flicking back and forth from her to the thing, and she could feel the cold metal mixed with sticky blood on her skin. She flinched and the thing holding her tightened its grip.

“Now, I’m going to get out of here, and I think your little miss teacher here wants to come with me.” It stroked her hair and she shuddered, feeling suddenly nauseous.

“No!” Dean roared.

It was too strong, and she couldn’t fight it. It started moving towards the door and she tried to think. She remembered the gun in her pocket and tried to pull it out without the thing realizing what she was doing. She had it in her hands, hammer cocked, before it got her out of the room and she pulled the trigger, releasing a shot into the thing’s leg.

It howled in pain and let go of her, slicing her skin with the knife. She heard Dean yell at her to get down. She ducked and heard another shot from Sam’s direction, along with a thud as the body hit the floor.

“Are you okay?” Dean said, crouching next to her. He touched the cut gently, trying to figure out how badly she was hurt. His fingers came away red and sticky.

“I’m fine,” she whispered, staring at the lifeless eyes of what looked like her student and trying not to sob. “See? I told you I would be useful.”

One of Dean’s hands found its way to her dark hair and she closed her eyes at the touch. “Come on, let’s get you out of here.”

“What about Miles?” she said, blinking away tears and wiping at the blood. “You said we would find him.”

“And we will.” He took her face in his hands. “I promise you, we’ll find him. But we have to get you patched up first.” He smiled a little. “Nice shot, by the way. Especially for somebody who doesn’t like guns.”

 

* * *

 

Callie tried not to let her anxiety pour out as she sat in the backseat for the drive back to the motel. She wasn’t sure she had ever felt time move more slowly. Just thinking about Miles out there, cold and afraid, she couldn’t settle her body. She kept shifting her weight, until Dean finally reached back and squeezed her hand.

“Relax. We’ll find him.”

She nodded, taking a few deep breaths. She forced her eyes shut and had a sudden image pop into her head.

“Do either of you have paper?” she said, eyes still closed. Sam put a pad and pen in her hands and she wrote down everything she had seen. She passed the pad back to Sam and he stared down at it.

“What is this?” he said. Dean looked over curiously, eyebrows furrowed.

“I don’t know,” she mumbled, shooting pain coursing through her head. “I just have a feeling.”

She saw them glance at each other and didn’t even want to begin to figure out what it meant. Sam read it quietly and looked up thoughtfully.

“I wonder if this means one of those warehouses down by the river,” he said.

“But which one?” Dean asked him.

“We’ll check them all,” Callie said, still fighting through the pain of the headache that was making her feel like her head was going to split in half.

“You’re not going to do anything,” Dean said gruffly, glancing back at her. “You need to recover.”

Sitting up straighter, she forced her face to hide the pain. “I’m coming with you.”

“You were just stabbed and I don’t know what’s happening now, but you’re not coming, and that’s final.”

They were at the motel, so Callie’s response had to wait until they were safely inside the room. Dean unlocked it and let her in, and she turned to face him, poking a finger into his chest.

“You don’t get to tell me what I can and can’t do, Dean.”

“You were just attacked. You should rest.” His eyes were soft, but he wasn’t backing down.

“I’m not going to get any rest until we find Miles, so stop telling me what I should do. He grazed me, that’s all.”

A look of something like pride flared in Dean’s green eyes and Callie wasn’t sure what to make of it.

“Well, while you two figure this out, I’m going to go get us something to eat,” Sam said, heading for the door.

“Will you at least let me clean and bandage that cut?” Dean asked, reaching out to touch the dried blood.

Callie nodded, and Dean pulled out a first aid kit. The alcohol stung when he dragged the cotton across the path of the knife, and she winced, hissing with the pain.

“Sorry,” he muttered, patting the area dry gently. “So, what happened back there, in the car?”

“I don’t know,” she said, watching as he lay a bandage over the wound and smoothed it. His fingers were callused and rough, but he was touching her as though he was afraid he might break her.

“Looks like maybe you inherited some of your grandma’s power.”

“Yeah, maybe. I just hope we find Miles.”

“We will,” he murmured, hands still tracing the area where the shapeshifter’s knife had sliced her. “Listen, Callie.” His eyes locked on hers. “You proved back there that you can handle a hunt.” She smiled, blushing a little. “But you’re already hurt, and I don’t want to see you get hurt even more.”

“But you said it will just be Miles, right? The shapeshifter is dead.”

“Yeah, but sometimes these guys can be pretty nasty with how they hide people. I just want you to be safe.” His voice was low and rumbling and his hand tangled in her wavy hair. “You’re pretty special, you know that?”

“What do you mean?” she said, voice trembling slightly.

“I don’t know,” he mumbled, pink staining his cheeks behind his stubble. “It’s not everybody who can just join a hunt and get the job done. You think well on your feet and you’d be a half-decent hunter if you trained a little.”

“I wasn’t kidding about the gun thing, even if I am pretty good at it.”

He smiled. “Then I guess you’ll have to stay a psychic teacher. That’s pretty good, I guess.”

He was so close to her now that she could almost count every one of his impossibly long eyelashes. She shivered and his eyes flicked down to her lips. He leaned closer, so his lips were only an inch from hers. She was about to close the gap when the door unlocked, revealing Sam with several bags of takeout.

“Hey guys,” he said, a smirk playing at his lips. “What’s up?”

Dean sprang away from her like she was a bomb about to explode. “Oh, uh, I was just patching Callie up. Making sure she’s okay.”

“Whatever. I got us some Chinese.” He unpacked the bags and Callie felt her stomach rumble with hunger.

Digging into the food, they talked about anything other than Miles and the fact that he was still out there, missing.

“So, what do you guys do for fun?” Callie asked, through a mouthful of lo mein.

“Fun?” Sam asked, chuckling a little. “I don’t know. Dean, what do we do for fun?”

“Listen to classic rock, drive the Impala, kill things that want to hurt people.” He was smiling, but he wouldn’t quite meet her eyes.

“But that’s the job, right?”

“Yeah,” Sam said. “That’s the job. We don’t get out much.”

Callie thought about that while she chewed on a piece of sweet and sour chicken. “You guys should probably work on your self-care. That’s what they tell new teachers, and I feel like it extra applies to you.”

The two of them looked at each other and chuckled again.

“We’ll get right on that,” Sam said, taking a dumpling from the carton.

“No, Sammy, I think she’s right. It wouldn’t kill us to take a break every once in a while.” She couldn’t tell if he was joking, but the smirk had faded off his lips as he looked at his brother.

Sam stared at him like he had grown another head. “Yeah. That’s probably true.”

“What do you do for fun, Ms. Prescott?” Dean asked, smiling at her.

“Me?” He nodded and she blushed. “I go out with my friends sometimes. We like to go dancing.”

“Dancing, huh?” Dean said. “I don’t know if we’ll ever get around to that, but you never know.”

They ate the rest of the food in silence, but once most of the cartons were empty, Callie started tapping her fingers on the bed. She nearly started pacing, waiting for the two of them to get their gear back in order to head out again.

“You’re sure you want to come with us?” Dean asked quietly, while Sam was loading the car. “Sure you don’t want to stay here, enjoy the crappy TV, and wait it out?”

Callie shook her head and he cupped her face, studying her closely. Whatever he saw, he must have liked, because he shrugged, hoisting his duffel onto his shoulder.

“Alright, then let’s go.”

 

* * *

 

They pulled to a stop outside a row of warehouses like the ones Callie had seen in her vision, or whatever it was.

“Any of these look familiar?” Sam asked her, squinting up at the buildings in the dim light of his flashlight beam.

She looked at the building closest to them and was hit with another wave of pain through her temples. “He’s here,” she said, voice thin as she fought to keep her feet. Dean put an arm around her waist to steady her.

“You okay?” he murmured in her ear, low enough that only she could hear it. She nodded and he let her go, following Sam into the dark building.

Their footsteps echoed through the abandoned hallways, flashlights glinting off the broken windows, and Callie strained to see through the darkness. She was tempted to call out for Miles, but she felt the weight of the silence in this place and kept her mouth shut.

They scanned the area and headed for the walls, searching every nook and cranny of the place. Every time they opened a locker or pushed past a door, Callie’s heart leapt, but every time, she was disappointed, until finally, the only place left to look was the basement.

The door looked like the mouth of some dark, terrifying beast, but she stayed close to Dean and followed him down the creaking metal stairs. It was damp and dusty, but Callie heard soft sobs echoing through the cavernous cellar. She started to run towards the sound and heard Dean call after her, but she couldn’t stop. She had to get to Miles.

She listened for it again and kept moving until she reached a metal door. “Miles, are you in there?” she said, knocking on it.

“Miss? Is that you?” She heard him sniffling through the door.

“We’re going to get you out of there. I promise.”

She tried the handle, but it was locked tight.

“Callie, move,” Dean said gruffly, holding up his gun to aim it at the lock. “Miles, move back as much as you can.”

She crouched away from the door and plugged her ears against the booming sound of the pistol shot hitting the lock and blowing it out. Sam dragged the door open, scraping against the dusty floor, and pulled Miles out, stumbling to get to his feet.

“Miss!” he shouted, smiling at her. He threw his arms around her in a hug and she returned it, happy to see him safe and alive. She ran a hand over his curly hair and tried not to notice how thin he looked. Had it only been a day since she had last seen him?

“Miles, are you okay?”

He nodded, wiping the last few tears from his face and looking much younger than his sixteen years. “I’m okay, miss. Pretty hungry, but I’m okay.” His chin jutted up proudly, and she smiled, happy to see him back to his old self.

“Let’s get you something to eat then,” Dean said, clearing his throat. Callie smiled at him and put an arm around Miles, leading him up the stairs and out to the Impala.

They stopped at a diner and Dean told Miles to order whatever he wanted, so he got a burger and fries and a shake. Callie had never seen him eat so much, but he definitely wasn’t complaining.

“You ready to head home?” Sam asked, after Miles had cleaned his own plate and finished Callie’s fries. She saw his face fall, and knew he wasn’t eager to get back to his foster parents. They were probably one of the reasons the shapeshifter had targeted him in the first place. She squeezed his shoulder and he smiled weakly at her.

“Yeah, I guess so.”

They drove him back to his house and Callie gave him one more hug before walking him up to the door. She explained things, sort of, to his foster mom, and reminded her about conferences on Monday.

When she got back in the car, she curled her body into the seat, all the energy of the day draining from her body. She must have fallen asleep, because before she knew it, she was waking up outside her apartment building.

“Can we go get a drink or something?” she mumbled. “Celebrate our success?”

“You sure you’re up for that?” Dean asked, peering at her from the front seat.

“Yeah. There’s a bar not far from here.”

“I’ll leave you guys to it,” Sam said, opening her door for her. “I need to check on a few things anyway.” He gave Dean a look as he took the keys, but Callie didn’t have the energy to figure it out.

They walked towards the bar, and Callie kept replaying what had happened in her head. She had almost died, as the throbbing pain near her collarbone reminded her, but Miles was safe and that was really all that mattered. She didn’t need to keep thinking about what would have happened if they hadn’t found him or hadn’t made it in time or hadn’t stopped the shapeshifter before it changed again. She definitely didn’t need to worry about what these weird visions meant. Hopefully, she’d never be in a situation where it would matter again.

“You okay in there?” Dean asked, setting a beer down in front of her.

“Yeah. Just, processing I guess.”

“It’s an acquired taste, that’s for sure,” he said, nodding at her. “If we hadn’t been doing it since we were kids, I don’t know if we would have gotten into it.”

“How do you guys do this all the time?” she asked, taking a sip of the cold beer.

He shrugged, and she saw a deep sadness in those impenetrable green eyes. “I guess you do eventually get used to it.”

“And you save people. That has to feel good.”

He shrugged again. “Sometimes we don’t save them.” The sadness in his eyes deepened. Callie laid a hand on his and he smiled weakly at her. “I guess it’s like your job a little bit. You do as much as you can, but sometimes the things you can’t do are the ones that haunt you.”

She nodded, squeezing his hand. “But at least you’re doing what you can.”

His smile widened. “I like having you around, Callie.” She blushed, pulling her hand back. “You’re much less annoying than Sam.” She laughed. “And you’re much better to look at.”

Her blush deepened and she looked down at the glass in her hands, turning it around and around to avoid making eye contact with Dean.

“Hey,” he said quietly, taking her hand again. “I know my job isn’t exactly one that lends itself to stability, but I’d like to see you again.”

“Sure,” she murmured, still staring at the amber liquid in her glass instead of his eyes. “Whenever you’re in town, give me a call.”

“I’m in town. Consider this my call.” She smiled and he intertwined his fingers with hers, tugging her closer to him. “Would you like to dance?”

She let him lead her towards the makeshift dance floor, noticing other couples lost in the ballad that was currently playing. He put an arm around her waist and pulled her flush against him.

“I thought you didn’t dance,” she said, wrapping her arms around his neck.

“I never said that. I just said we usually don’t have time to dance.”

Callie rested her head on his shoulder and breathed in. The smell was something she had gotten used to over the last couple of days without realizing it, worn leather and whiskey, mixed with something else she couldn’t quite put her finger on.

“Hey,” he murmured, as the song was drawing to a close. She looked up at him, those eyes piercing her like they always did. Leaning down, he finally gave her what she had wanted and kissed her.

His lips were warm and soft, nothing like the solid body he pressed against her. Her fingers dug into his neck, trying to keep him as close as possible, and she heard him groan into her mouth at the feeling of her fingernails against his skin.

“Should we take this somewhere else?” she whispered, hardly able to hear her own voice over the noise of the bar. He nodded and took her hand, leading her outside.

 

* * *

 

On the walk back to her apartment, it felt like his hands were everywhere, leaving a trail of fiery heat wherever they touched. Her hands were shaking as she took out her keys to open the front door. Dean kissed her neck and she nearly dropped the keys entirely.

“Relax, sweetheart,” he murmured and she shivered, though the night was still warm.

She finally managed to get them inside and Dean nudged her against the wall, kissing her again and again until she felt drunk and dizzy. His lips worked their way down her neck and he pulled the collar of the shirt aside to get at more of her skin. Her hands carded through his short hair and she arched her body to get more contact with him.

“As much as I like seeing you in my shirt,” he muttered, pulling at the hem, “I don’t think you need it anymore.

Callie shivered again, raising her arms to let him take it off completely. He ran his hands down her sides, tracing the small tattoos she had there. He reached behind her and unclasped her bra, letting it fall to the floor with the shirt. Growling, he bent down to take her nipple between his teeth and she felt a moan rumble out of her. He grinned and put his hands under her thighs to pick her up.

“Bedroom?” he asked, kissing her again. She jerked her head towards the door and he carried her to the bed, dropping her on her back and pulling off his own shirt. He had a tattoo as well, but she had a feeling it wasn’t just because it looked cool. She ran her hands down his muscular chest and he pulled her up to kiss him. His skin was hot and smooth under hers, and she clawed at his back, trying to get as close as she could. His hands fumbled with the button on her jeans and she raised her hips to help him get them off.

He stood back, looking at her in the moonlight and she trembled under his gaze. She wanted to cover herself, but his hungry eyes kept her still.

“You are so beautiful, do you know that?” he said, voice low and rumbling.

She blushed, but he didn’t notice. He was too busy kissing up her legs to her knees, her thighs, her hips, her belly button. She ran her hands through his hair and he hooked his fingers into the waistband of her panties, looking up at her. She nodded and he grinned, pulling them down and dropping them to the side, before kissing her again, circling his tongue on an especially sensitive spot by her hipbone. He kissed along the crease where he hips met her legs and pushed her legs apart.

“You don’t have to,” she whispered, even as a moan escaped her again.

“Sweetheart, I want to,” he said, smiling again, and then his head was between her legs, tongue working circles around her clit and she felt every muscle in her body tense. “I want to make you feel good,” he muttered, breath hot against her skin. When his tongue found the perfect spot, he grinned against her, pressing a finger inside her. She clutched at the blankets on her bed, trying not to scream with the sensation, but he kept going, circling her clit and working her with his fingers, adding another to increase the pressure.

“Dean, oh god, Dean,” she called again and again, lost in the sensation. She was close and he knew it, so he increased the pace and the pressure until her walls clamped around his fingers and she collapsed into the bed, feeling like she might sink through to the floor. She tugged on his hair and pulled him up to kiss her.

“You’re wearing too many clothes,” she said, tracing her fingers along the waistband of his jeans when she had come down from the high. He smiled again, shimmying out of them in one fluid motion and laying back down beside her.

She traced her hands over his muscles again, exploring every inch of his warm skin. He watched her, smile still lighting his eyes, and she sat up, laying a kiss to his shoulder, then trailing kisses down his torso until she reached his belly button.

“Your turn,” she murmured, and he ran a hand through her hair as she took the head into her mouth. He was big, bigger than anyone she had ever been with before, so she wrapped her hands around the base and stroked him in time with her mouth. A groan rolled out of him and she saw his eyes were closed as she worked. She circled the head with her tongue, flicking the underside with just the tip. He moaned again and his fingers tightened in her hair.

“Come here,” he managed to grunt, and she gave him one last lick before pulling herself up to kiss him again. She could feel him, hard against her thigh, and she pushed herself to sitting to grab a condom out of the drawer. He looked up at her, eyes intent on her face. “You sure?”

She nodded, opening the condom and rolling it onto his length. He hissed and she felt like his eyes were going to burn her with their intensity. She straddled his legs and guided him to her entrance. As she lowered herself onto him, she felt herself stretching to accommodate his size, and she watched his eyes roll back into his head.

“Jesus, Callie,” he breathed, hands resting on her hips.

She started to move, rocking her hips in circles and he groaned again, hands traveling up her sides to squeeze her breasts, before moving back down again to press on her clit. She gasped and tensed for a moment, but rode through the sensation, feeling another climax building. He found the right spot again and she felt herself clenching around him as he let out a groan and snapped his hips up to meet her,

She collapsed onto him and he stroked her back, letting the aftershocks wear off. He gently nudged her to the side so he could dispose of the condom and clean up a little, but at the loss of contact, she felt a whimper leave her.

He kissed her forehead and padded towards the bathroom and she curled up on her side, already missing the feeling of him inside her.

Callie woke to the dim rays of the sun just filtering through her sheer curtains and felt an arm around her waist. She turned over to see Dean sleeping, face more relaxed than she had seen him, and she smiled. It hadn’t been a dream. He was really there. Everything that had happened was real.

He stirred, mumbling something as his green eyes opened to blink at her. “Morning, sunshine,” he said, leaning over to give her a kiss.

“Good morning,” she said, snuggling closer to him. “You hungry?”

He shook his head, squeezing her against him and making her giggle. “I think I’d much rather stay here than go get food.”

He kissed her again and she felt herself melting. His hands traced over the ink on her ribs again and she smiled.

“This one is for my grandmother,” she said, bringing his hand to the Celtic knot on the right side. “I got it the day after she died.”

His eyes narrowed, and she stared at him until he shook his head and finally spoke. “That might explain the power.”

“Really? I just picked the design because it meant family and I needed the reminder of her.”

“That might have locked in the power from her for when you need it.”

Callie considered it and shrugged. “Does that really happen?”

Dean grinned. “Stranger things have happened.”

“What does yours mean?” she asked, fingers tracing the flames and the star on his chest.

“Oh, that?” She raised her eyebrows. “It’s anti-possession. This way, demons can’t get inside me.”

She stared at him. “Demons?”

“Yeah,” he said, kissing her nose. “Don’t tell me you’ve seen a shapeshifter but draw the line at believing in demons?”

She laughed. “No, I guess it makes sense that there would be other things than just shapeshifters out there.”

He opened his mouth to speak again, but just then, his phone started buzzing. Grumbling, he sat up and grabbed his jeans, pulling out the phone.

“Hey Sam,” he said, standing and pulling on his boxer-briefs. “What? Where?”

Callie pulled the sheets up around herself, watching him pace back and forth.

“And Bobby is sure about this one?” he said, running a hand over his face. “Okay, pick me up at Callie’s. I’ll be ready.”

He closed the phone and paused before turning to smile sadly at Callie.

“You have to go.” She didn’t ask, because she already knew the answer.

“Hey,” he said, taking her face in his hands and kissing her gently. “I don’t want you think this was just a one-time thing for me.”

“But you still have to go,” she said, grasping his forearms.

“I do.”

“Well, the offer still stands,” she said, smiling as genuinely as she could. “Whenever you’re back in town, let me know.”

“I will.” He pulled on the rest of his clothes, but if she didn’t know better, she’d have thought he was taking his time, dragging it out as long as he could. When his phone chirped, she knew what it meant.

“Be careful,” she murmured, as he kissed her one last time.

“Always,” he said, with half a cocky smirk. “I’ll see you soon, Callie.”

And then he was gone, leaving Callie alone in her now too-quiet apartment. She shivered, suddenly cold, and curled up under the blankets, holding herself tightly, trying not to think about the man who had turned her life upside down for a weekend and then just walked out the door.

When she finally got up, around noon, she fumbled through her jeans to find her phone. There was a text from an unknown number.

“Miss you already. See you soon.”

She couldn’t help but smile.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first Supernatural fic I've written, and the first fic I've posted on AO3, so please feel free to give me any constructive criticism you have. I'd love the feedback! Thanks for reading!


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